


...and Piggy!

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animals, Cats, Dogs, Established Relationship, Fluff, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pigs, Turtles, dean makes a lot of terrible jokes, domestic AU, esther the wonder pig au, guinea pigs, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: Cas is already gazing down at the animal with that same fond, reverent look he gives Dean first thing in the morning, and Dean feels something in his chest twinge. Whatever it is that can make Cas that happy is ok by him and holy shit that’s a pig. “Cas, that’s a pig!”“Yes, Dean, I know.” Cas holds her up so Dean can take a better look and yep, definitely a little pink piglet. “Isn’t she beautiful?”“What are we going to do with a pig?” Pigs aren’t like dogs. Or cats. They need….pig stuff. Dean doesn’t even know where to start with that.Cas looks at him, head tilted in confusion. “We’re going to love her and give her a home.” If he were the type to say duh, he’d be saying it now.(An Esther the Wonder Pig AU)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaaachu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaaachu/gifts).



> This fic is a birthday gift for [Chandra](pecanpie.co.vu) who inspired it! (And by "inspired" I mean "demanded".) And then she hashtag blessed me with adorable illustrations!
> 
> If you don't know about [Esther the Wonder Pig](https://www.facebook.com/estherthewonderpig/) and her two dads, go check her out here on [facebook](https://www.facebook.com/estherthewonderpig/?fref=ts). It's pretty much the one place on the internet where I would encourage you to read the comments.

 

 

From the kitchen window of their small house, Dean can see out into the backyard while he empties the dishwasher. It’s a late winter day, the trees just beginning to bud, and birds flit from branch to branch in weak sunlight.  As Dean watches, a couple of cats meander onto the back porch to check if anything new has magically turned up in their food bowls. Dean’s just finished putting away the silverware when a single bark of alert from their white boxer/bull dog mix is followed by the sound of Cas’s car crunching up the gravel driveway. 

Dean’s got the kettle filling for Cas by the time he comes into the kitchen with his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. He glances at Dean and then away again and Dean knows exactly what this means.

“No,” Dean says at the same time that Cas says, “Hear me out.”

Dean sets down the half-full kettle and breathes in slowly through his nose. Cas waits patiently while he holds onto that deep breath for the count of four before expelling it slowly. “Tell me.”

Cas looks at him with pained eyes. “She’s just…so small. And she didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

Dean jabs a finger at him. “This is why you aren’t allowed to go into town by yourself.”

Cas’s shoulder’s sag and he stares at the floor. “I know,” he murmurs guiltily.

Dean sighs because he knows this isn’t just for effect. Cas truly feels the pain of these situations and, faced with the desperation of them, he wants to help. It explains why their small house is now also home to three dogs, five cats, a box turtle, and a pair of guinea pigs. 

Dean scrubs a hand over his eyes and tries to decide which of those numbers is going up. “We can’t keep doing this. It costs money to maintain all of these animals, Cas. Just feeding them alone—“

“This one will hardly eat anything, I swear.” Cas glances over his shoulder and Dean knows whatever he’s rescued is still out on the porch.

“Fine,” Dean says, more huffed out breath that word. “But this is the last time.”

Cas nods, his face relaxing. “Of course, Dean.”

They both pretend they haven’t had this exact conversation multiple times before.

Dean follows Cas back through the house and onto the front porch where a small cardboard box awaits.  _Kitten_ , Dean thinks.  At least it can eventually live in the pole barn with the other cats. Definitely ranks low on the maintenance scale. 

Picking up the box, Cas nudges it at Dean until he takes it, holding it at chest level while Cas gently works open the top. He reaches in and pulls out something pink wrapped in an old dish towel. 

 _Weird hairless kitten_ , Dean thinks.  

Cas is already gazing down at the animal with that same fond, reverent look he gives Dean first thing in the morning, and Dean feels something in his chest twinge. Whatever it is that can make Cas that happy is ok by him and  _holy shit that’s a pig_. 

“Cas, that’s a pig!”

“Yes, Dean, I know.” Cas holds her up so Dean can take a better look and yep, definitely a little pink piglet. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“What are we going to do with a pig?” Pigs aren’t like dogs. Or cats. They need….pig stuff. Dean doesn’t even know where to start with that.

Cas looks at him, head tilted in confusion. “We’re going to love her and give her a home.” If he were the type to say  _duh_ , he’d be saying it now. 

Dogs are straightforward, they tell you want they need. The cats all live outdoors and are practically maintenance free. Well, mostly. The indoor vs. outdoor cat battle had been a hard fought one.

(“Outdoor cats have significantly shorter lifespans and higher rates of injury and illness,” Cas had maintained, but Dean had held firm.

“Me having allergies every day is going to significantly shorten the lifespan of our relationship.”

In the end, these new additions required a significant outpouring of money. The pole barn, which was basically a great big metal shed on a concrete foundation, had been a major selling point when they bought the property. The eventual plan was for Dean to update the space so that he could take in custom car restoration projects. With the adoption of the kittens, this leapt to the top of the home repair priority list. All in all, the “free” kittens necessitated insulating and heating the pole barn as well as vet fees for the neutering, spaying, and vaccines that Cas insisted were the only possible course of action for a responsible pet owner.)

Dean’s learned how to cut up vegetables for both the turtle and the guinea pigs. He knows the guinea pigs need timothy hay, not alfalfa. A good part of the kitchen pantry is taken up by bags of pet food. They have regular kibble for Longboy and the basset hound mix, Val. Tillie, the old black lab, has special senior dog food. There’s a huge bag of cat food, a five-pound bag of vitamin C fortified pellets for the guinea pigs, and a jar of little round turtle pellets that have to be mixed with water to make a mash. He looks down at the tiny pig in Cas’s hands and the thought of learning a whole new regimen of animal care, of keeping something that little alive for God’s sake, is too much. 

He raises both hands, palms out. “Good luck with that,” he says before turning on his heel and going back inside. The storm door slams behind him.

Cas lets him leave.

Dean stomps through the house and out the back door. He crosses the backyard and goes into the pole barn. The cats, sensing his bad mood, keep their distance. He bangs some tools around for a while, doing completely unnecessary maintenance on the Impala until he’s calmed down again.

When he comes back inside, he finds lunch waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He washes his hands and picks up half of the sandwich, consuming it in a few bites before venturing out of the kitchen with the plate in his hands.

Cas is sitting on the couch feeding the piglet with what looks to be one of the same tiny bottles they used on the kittens. He sits down alongside Cas and wrangles an arm around his shoulders so he can lean in and take a closer look. 

All right, fine. She’s pretty cute _._

Cas gives him a tentative look and Dean gives him the tiniest of nods. They’ll figure it out.

“Thanks for lunch,” he says, because he knows a plate full of apology when he sees one.

“Thanks for—” he nods toward the bundle in his arms.

“She have a name?” Dean knows that’s the kiss of death. Once Cas names something, it’s his forever.

“She came with one,” he says cryptically, adjusting the nipple in her mouth. Dean doesn’t know if that’s good or bad so he nudges Cas when he isn’t forthcoming. Cas straightens his shoulders a little bit.  “Mabel.”

Dean actually makes the pffffft sound. “Mabel?”

Cas looks at him evenly. “Yes.”

“Good thing she’s little enough that you can change it.”

“A name is a precious thing, Dean. Everything else has been taken from her. I don’t wish to take that as well.”

And there’s no resisting Cas with that sincerity in his eyes. Dean leans in and kisses his cheek. “Fine, but don’t come running to me when she gets… teased at pig school.” He furrows his brow. Ok, so that one needs a little work.

Cas rests his head on Dean’s shoulder as the little pig makes short work of the bottle.

With Cas on Mabel duty, Dean gets the house ready for bedtime. He lets the dogs out one last time and makes sure the cat bowl on the back porch is full of fresh water. He tosses a fresh handful of hay into the guinea pig pen and peers into the big glass aquarium. Howard Coshell is already asleep or surfing the net or whatever it is he does inside his shell. The dogs trot along behind him and settle on the dog beds in their bedroom while Dean changes clothes and brushes his teeth.

He’s already in bed when Cas comes in, the box in his hands.

Dean just looks at him. 

“She’s not like a dog, Dean. She can’t bark if she needs something.”

Dean sighs. “Just no pigs in the bed, ok?”

“Of course not. Let me go get the gate.”

He sets the box on the bed and Dean does his best not to look inside. He’s successful until he hears a tiny squeaky sound. Then he puts down his book with a huff. The pig is standing up, the towel tangled around her feet or hooves or whatever. She’s regarding him with shining eyes. 

Dean shakes his head slowly. “Don’t give me that look. You’re oinking up the wrong tree.” Oh sure, that was a good one and there’s nobody to hear it. He calls to the dogs. “Oinking up the wrong tree. Get it?” Only Longboy even bothers to open his eyes at the sound of his voice. 

Dean’s muttering about being unappreciated when Cas comes back carrying the baby gate that they bought the first time they needed to sequester a puppy. It’s gotten plenty of use since then. He puts it in place to cordon off an area between the dresser and the wall and carefully wraps Mabel back up before setting the box on the floor behind it. He considers the setup for a moment, then retrieves an old soft quilt and puts it on the floor under the box. 

“Come to bed, Dr. Doolittle.”

*

In the morning, Dean wakes to the sound of Cas softly humming. He’s sitting up in bed and Dean moves closer to him, pressing his face into his hip and breathing in his warmth. Cas passes a hand through Dean’s hair and Dean starts to drift off again until the humming is joined by squeaking. 

Dean cracks open one eye. Cas is cradling the pig in his arms as he feeds her a bottle. 

“Technically, she’s not in the bed,” Cas says and his hair is such a wreck that all Dean can do is laugh. 

Dean gets out of bed and the dogs immediately swarm around his feet. He looks to Cas in silent question.

“Don’t let them fool you,” Cas says firmly. “Everyone has been fed.”

“Nice try, guys.” 

The dogs don’t even have the decency to look abashed.

Dean has breakfast going by the time Cas joins him. “You want eggs or pancakes? This maple bacon has me thinking about syrup.” He turns away from the stove when he realizes what he’s said. “Mabel bacon! That’s you!”

He’s so pleased with himself that it takes him a moment to notice the horrified look on Cas’s face and, Jesus Christ, he’s covering the pig’s ears with his hand.

“That’s not funny,” Cas says, clutching the bundle ever-closer to his chest. “I won’t be having any bacon, thank you. In fact, I think it’s time we really took a look at what we eat in this household.”

“Well, more for me!” Dean calls to Cas’s retreating back, using the tongs to lift each strip out of the pan to drain on paper towels. It’s delicious: crisp and the perfect combination of salty and sweet. Dean manages to make it through nearly two entire strips before it stops tasting quite so good. 

*

There’s a flurry of barking when the doorbell rings. Dean wades through a sea of dogs to get to the front door. “That’s just Sam, you idjits.”

They must know that because even Tillie, who usually can’t be bothered to get up when anyone comes to the door, is in the fray. Dean can't decide whether she's deaf or just lazy because somehow she always manages to hear Cas take the cheese out of the fridge.

Sam wrangles himself into the house as the dogs crowd around him, sniffing and wagging. He makes sure to pet each of them, crouching down to give Tillie a special pat on the head. Sam had been the one to find her wandering alone in a downpour. Her collar said she lived in the neighborhood, but it soon became apparent that her owners had left the old girl behind when they moved. Unable to have pets in his rental, he’d called Cas who’d said yes before Sam was even done explaining. It’s been over a year since that happened, but by the way Tillie is licking his hand, it appears she’s never forgotten his kindness.

With the dogs properly greeted, he spares Dean a quick hug before peering around. "Where is she?"

“Where’s who?” Dean asks back. “Your girlfriend? She doesn’t exist.”

"You know who I mean," Sam reaching down to give Tillie one last pet that turns into a belly rub when she promptly flops to the ground and rolls over. 

"I'm not on Porky patrol." Dean knows damn well that Cas and Mabel are out in the backyard but seriously, what is the big deal? They already have a house full of animals. The pig is just one more. He's saved from having to answer any more stupid questions when the back door opens.

From the entryway, Dean can see straight through the living room into the kitchen. Cas has carried Mabel up the steps but he sets her down once they're inside. Tillie rolls back over to watch Cas, then delicately sets her head back on her paws when it becomes clear that Cas isn't heading toward the refrigerator. 

"Hello, Sam!" Cas crosses to where they stand with Mabel scrambling to keep up. 

Dean goes to exchange an eye roll with his brother, but instead finds Sam staring at her with a look of delight, his hand over his mouth. "Not you, too," he grumbles. 

Cas stops and Mabel stops, too, hiding behind his legs. Cas, the nerd, actually introduces them. "Sam, this is Mabel. Mabel, this is your Uncle Sam."

Sam crouches down, which only serves to make him slightly less huge and terrifying. Mabel peeks at him, taking a few steps forward and sniffing in his general direction before climbing  to the safety of Cas's feet and sitting down. Cas scoops her up so that Sam can get a closer look. 

"The pictures don't do her justice," Sam breathes. "She's darling."

Cas scratches between her ears and Mabel gets that contented look on her face that Dean refuses to believe is a smile. 

"You've been sending him pictures?" he asks, mostly to break up the love fest because _of course_ Cas been sending Sam pictures.

Cas and Sam share a look. 

"What?" Dean demands. 

"She's so cute," Sam begins slowly. "We made an Instagram for her."

Dean looks between them. "The pig. Has an Instagram account."  

"The internet loves baby animals," Cas says with the utmost solemnity, like it's the eleventh commandment. 

"The pictures of her with the dogs are especially popular," Sam hurries to add. 

Introducing her to the dogs had gone surprisingly well. Tillie and Longboy had merely given her cursory sniffs. Only Val, the Basset Hound/God-knows-what mix, had shown much interest, licking her as if to groom her. Dean figured it was those short little legs they had in common that led to the bond. 

"She likes the dogs better than she like me," Dean grouses.

Cas kisses the top of Mabel's head before holding her out toward him. “You like daddy, don’t you, Mabel?”

“Maybe not so much with the daddy talk,” Dean says, taking a step back.

Obviously, she likes Cas best of all. He’s been the one to feed her and care for her. Dean’s taken over some of the other chores to give him time to do that, which is fine. It’s Cas’s pig and the less Dean has to participate in her care, the better off they’ll both be. Dean’s not mean to her or anything (there’s no possible way she’s holding that bacon comment against him…right?). It’s probably just an issue of attachment, but he can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t like him.

Maybe she’s jealous of him. Longboy was their first dog, back when an animal in their house was a novelty. Despite all the times he’d made fun of Sam and his wistful expression around dogs, Dean had been thrilled at finally having a pet. It helped that Longboy was a cool dog, sleek and smart. Part American bull dog, he was loyal and sometimes extra protective of Dean. He’d gone through a phase of barking whenever Cas hugged or kissed him.

Having a dog meant that they were settled enough to provide a stable home. It was something Dean thought he might never have, not after a vagabond childhood with a dad who couldn’t hold a job long enough for them to ever put down roots. Dean always assumed he’d end up much the same way, drifting through life with only his brother to anchor him. That had all changed when he met Cas.

In some ways, Longboy was the ultimate sign of their commitment to each other. Even more so than the thin gold ring Cas wore.

Even if the pig is jealous, what’s the worse she can do? Snout-boop him to death? Mabel does have ways of indicating her preference, though.

Dean nods at Cas. "Show Sam what she does."

Cas passes the pig to Sam, who holds her like she's made of porcelain (porkelain?), and sits on the couch. Dean sits down next to him and Cas puts an arm around his shoulders.

"Set her down," Dean says, pointing, and Sam carries her over to the far end of the couch.  He holds her in cupped hands, lowering her gently down onto the cushion.

Mabel works her little legs across the squishy cushions, tottering on the soft surface as she moves toward Cas. Sam stands poised to catch her, should she get too close to the edge. She stops and snuffles at Cas’s jeans before leaning her chin onto him so she can wrestle her front legs up and on to his leg. Her little behind wriggles and she leverages herself into his lap. Instead of settling there, though, she continues across the other leg. She doesn’t stop until she’s inserted herself between the two of them, wedged comfortably between their thighs.

"Every damn time," Dean says. "I think she doesn't want me getting too close to Cas."

Cas beams at her. "I think she wants to be with both of us."

Sam already has his phone out to take a picture. “Family portait.” He checks the picture before showing it to them. “Ok if I post this one?”

Cas is smiling brightly while Dean looks a little resigned next to him. Mabel looks completely at home snuggled between them.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean agrees. “Put it on her Insta-ham.”

*

_I can’t find Mabel_

Dean holds his phone carefully, trying not to get grease on it at as he stares at the text. He’s working on the car, certainly in yelling distance from the house, so there’s no reason for Cas to be texting him from inside unless something is really wrong. He straightens up quickly, nearly smacking his head on the open hood, and grabs a rag to wipe his hands before heading to the back door.

“Cas?” he calls, once he’s inside. Cas’s response is muffled but seems to be coming from the living room. Dean understands why when he finds him there on his hands and knees, looking under the couch.

“She was right here.” Cas doesn’t even stop what he’s doing to look at him as he crawls along the edge of the couch. “And now—“

“Ok, hey, slow down.” Dean touches his arm to stop him. “Tell me what happened.”

Cas gets to his feet and explains. “I was sitting here working on my computer and she was sitting on my feet, you know, the way she likes?” Dean nods because Cas’s feet are absolutely the pig’s favorite spot. “And then I realized she was gone.” He runs a hand through his hair in agitation, his eyes darting around the room. “She’s so little it’s not like she could’ve gone far but I can’t find her anywhere.”

Dean squeezes his bicep until Cas looks him in the eye. “The front door was closed?”

Cas nods his confirmation. “Front door, back door, that was the first thing I checked.”

“Ok, so we know she’s in here somewhere.” Dean looks around the room. There aren’t a lot of hiding places for a pig who is only slightly larger than the guinea pigs, but he dutifully walks the perimeter of the room. “She can’t climb, right?” Dean asks, even though he knows full well she can’t. Nonetheless, he checks inside the guinea pig pen. Both Spots and Juniper scurry over to the side of the cage when he approaches, gently wheeking their greeting and looking at him expectantly for treats.

Dean checks the entryway, lifting empty shoes to look underneath them. He crosses back into the living room. Despite the bustle of activity and the amount of stress clearly coming off Cas, who is currently checking each low cabinet in the kitchen, Tillie and Val are blissfully unconcerned, cozied up together on the big dog bed. 

Dean moves to their dining room, which is more of an alcove than an actual room. Carefully he repositions each chair to look beneath the table, while Cas does another check of the bedroom.

“Dean!”

There’s a brittle edge to his voice that Dean doesn’t like and he hurries to join him. He finds Cas standing unnaturally still in the doorway to the bedroom, staring inside. Dean follows his gaze to see Longboy cowering in the corner of the room. He’s wedged himself between the bed and the wall, shaking and refusing to make eye contact.

“You don’t think—” Cas begins, horror in his voice.

“No,” Dean cuts him off. “Absolutely not.” But his blood runs cold at the thought. Longboy has never shown any hint of being aggressive but it’s not inconceivable that the pig could seem like prey to him.  Dean takes a deep breath and moves a few steps into the room, trying to get closer without making the dog feel trapped and cornered.

It takes a little coaxing, but Longboy comes to Dean with his head still lowered. Dean looks him over, not even sure what he’s looking for, but there’s no sign of anything out of the ordinary.

Together, he and Cas search the bedroom and bathroom, but there’s still no sign of Mabel.

Dean works his jaw. Ok, fine, he didn’t want this pig in the first place, but Cas is so completely smitten with her. If something bad has happened to her, Cas will never forgive himself. He’s already starting to get that frantic look in his eyes that Dean would do anything to take away. Cas has done nothing but give of himself and there’s no way this is going to end in heartbreak for him. Not so long as Dean has any say in the matter.

With renewed determination, Dean forces his voice to be calm. “Ok, we are clearly missing something. Let’s go back to the start.”

They stand silently in the living room. Dean is slightly relieved to see that, Longboy is acting more like himself, at least. He still hasn’t joined the others on the dog beds, but he’s lying on the wood floor with his head resting somewhat mopily on his front paws, staring at Tillie and Val.

Dean steps toward to the dog bed, hands on his knees as he crouches down. This time he catches a flash of pink. A little rear leg, to be precise.

“Cas,” he calls softly, straightening back up. “Come look. I found her.”

She’s there on the dog bed, tucked completely under Val’s big, floppy ear. Tillie is sound asleep alongside them, one of her paws blocking Mabel from their view. When Cas sees them, he sighs heavily and leans against Dean. Dean wraps an arm around him and kisses him on the cheek. “See? All good.” They stand together letting the relief flow through them.

When Cas has recovered enough to take his phone out of his pocket and start snapping pictures, Dean turns to shake his head sadly at Longboy. “Seriously? You let that little bitty thing scare you out of your own bed?”

Longboy whines at him.

Dean just shrugs. “You gotta work it out, man. This is your family now.”

*

Mabel is gaining weight so quickly that Cas worries she was malnourished when they got her. In a matter of a few weeks, she’s more than doubled in size. A few weeks later, she’s doubled again.

Dean stands with his hands on his hips as Cas tries to weigh her. She scrambles off the unfamiliar surface of the bathroom scale again and again until he abandons that plan.  Picking her up, he steps onto the scale with her. 

“Twenty-nine pounds,” Cas says quietly, without looking at Dean. He sets the squirming pig down and she trots off, her hooves making a distinct clacking sound against the tile.

“What’s that?” Dean leans in a little, even though he heard perfectly the first time.

“Twenty-nine pounds,” Cas repeats.

Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and reads from a site about micropigs that he’s bookmarked. “Small species of miniature pig grow to over 66 pounds in their first year of life and take four to five years to reach adult size.” He stops to look at Cas. “She’s gained nearly thirty pounds _in a month_.”

Cas works his jaw for a moment. “It would appear so, yes.”

“You told me she was a micro pig.”

“That’s what I was told.” Cas slumps a little against the wall.

Dean lowers his voice into his best Cas imitation, “She’ll hardly eat anything, Dean!”

Cas rubs a hand over his face. “I seem to have been misled.”

With a snort, Dean agrees. “Ya think?”

“What do you want me to do? It’s not like I have a receipt and can take her back.” Cas looks absolutely stricken. “I can try to find a farm or some--”

Dean reaches for him, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Whoa. Hang on. I never said anything about that.”

Cas’s eyes widen in relief. “We can keep her?”

Mabel has been part of their lives for more than a month now. He’s seen the way Cas lights up every time she runs to him and the way he sneaks her bites of his breakfast under the table. All day long, Cas stands up with the utmost care so he won’t disturb Mabel who is inevitably sleeping at (or on) his feet. 

They no longer worry about her with the dogs since she’s decided she’s the newest member of the pack. The dogs, in turn, seem to have accepted her and, even though she stands and stares when Longhoy tries to play with her, nobody seems to have a problem with letting her find a space on the dog beds at night. (Dean won’t admit it but he gets a kick out of the special little contented grunt she makes when she gets her part of the blanket fixed just the way she likes it.)

Dean still acts like having a pig for a pet is the stupidest thing around, but truthfully he’s fairly impressed with how smart she is. When Cas taught her to nose at the bell hanging from the back door to let them know when she needs to go out, she caught on quickly.  In fact, it took her less than half the time it took them to teach Longboy, but Dean pretended not to notice and Cas was kind enough not to point it out.

When they line up the food bowls to fill with kibble, Mabel’s bowl is right there at the end of the row. When Dean lets them out first thing in the morning, she’s right there clamoring to get outside with the rest of them. She’s better housebroken than Tillie, who doesn’t like to get wet and pees in the corner of the dining room when it rains hard, and without a doubt she smells better than Val.

All in all, Dean’s taken to thinking of her as one of the dogs and that works out fine. 

 He nods at Cas who kisses him long and hard. 

“I’m actually a little offended you thought I’d want to get rid of her,” Dean says, taking advantage of the close quarters of the bathroom to grope Cas’s butt. “She’s just not what I signed up for, that’s all.”

“You’re not what I signed up for, either,” Cas reminds him. “And I’m keeping you.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean kisses the corner of Cas’s mouth.

“Do you remember the first night we met? When you went out of your way to specifically inform me that you weren’t gay?”

Dean squints into the distance, pretending not to remember. “Nope. That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Silly me,” Cas says, tightening his arms around Dean. “I must have you confused with someone else.”

Cas had first appeared in Dean’s life at the bar where he’d been working. He’d come in one night, sat on a stool at the end of the bar, and chatted Dean up in a way that left his intentions unmistakable. Dean had been flattered; Cas was a good-looking guy. It had been a pleasant evening and Dean had enjoyed the attention but he eventually set Cas straight. _Sorry, man, but I don’t swing that way_ , Dean had said when Cas started not-so-subtly hinting at what time Dean got off work. In response, Cas had only narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded his understanding. Dean found himself impressed by the way he didn’t act embarrassed or get up to leave.

Despite Dean’s easygoing rejection (or maybe because of it) Cas kept showing up. Most nights he’d take that same seat at the end of the bar, sitting there often enough that the regular crowd made a point of leaving it open for him. He drank decent beer and waited patiently for Dean to have a free moment to chat as he wiped down the bar or dried glasses. Dean, for his part, enjoyed the company and the conversation. There was something in the steady way Cas looked at him that made Dean feel like he was truly being heard for the first time in his life.

Even when he was busy, he managed to stay on top of the level of Cas’s beer, quick with a refill as needed, but that was just good service, right? When he found himself with one eye on the door around the time Cas usually showed up, he told himself that was just what friends did. When he felt strangely empty on the nights Cas didn’t appear, he told himself it was just a habit he’d gotten used to. Some nights, when the place was busy and raucous and noisy, he had to lean over the bar with his mouth practically to Cas’s ear even to speak to him. He knew he was in trouble when he found himself lingering there to breathe in the scent of his shampoo.

Those nights he lay awake thinking about Cas and thinking about himself, trying to understand where the hell all of this was coming from and what on earth he was supposed to do about it.

Things might have stayed safely in place if a muscular guy with black curly hair hadn’t slid onto the stool next to Cas one night, looking Cas over in a way that immediately put Dean on edge. It was enough to have Dean over at that side of the bar checking on them more than was strictly necessary. As the night picked up, Dean found himself distracted by how close they were sitting, unable to stop wondering if their knees were bumping together under the bar. Cas seemed completely focused on the guy, leaning in as they spoke, laughing until his nose crinkles at whatever stupid thing the guy was saying. Watching that, Dean over-poured a beer, swearing as the foam ran over the edge of the glass and onto his fingers. Dean had come to think of that crinkly smile as _his_ smile, the one that left Dean with a little flutter in his chest each time he managed to elicit it.

In a fine show of maturity, Dean cleaned up the spilled beer then slammed down an empty tray onto the bar. Neither of them seemed to notice. Next, he interrupted them to see if they needed refills, even though both of their glasses were more than half full. The guy merely waved him off and Cas didn’t even bother to spare him a glance. Dismissed, Dean retreated to the center of the bar, twisting his towel until his knuckles turned white. Then he asked Ash to cover his break.

After a few steadying breaths, Dean stepped out from behind the bar, moving around to stand between them until Cas finally met his eye.

“Can I speak to you in private, please?” Dean hoped he sounded casual, but he couldn’t seem to unclench his jaw completely and it came out a little clipped. There was an agonizingly long moment where Cas looked between the two men in silence before getting off the stool and following Dean to the break room.

Once the door was closed behind them, Dean kissed him. Heart pounding, he was careful to leave some space between them in case he’d read this whole thing completely wrong. Without breaking the kiss, Cas backed him up until he was pressed into the door and Cas’s tongue had taken up residence in Dean’s mouth.

They’d been together ever since.

This was nothing close to what Dean had envisioned his life becoming. He’d never thought he’d settle down in the first place and if he did ever let his thoughts roam in that direction, he’d pictured a brunette with a nice rack, maybe in a suburb. Definitely not a dude keeping him warm at night in a little house filled with stray animals on three acres of land.

The day he realized he was in love with Cas was the day he realized why none of the traditional fantasies had ever resonated with him long enough to become reality. Once he stopped denying himself what he truly wanted, that need for domesticity came rushing back in, more appealing than ever.

Sam had rolled with the whole thing surprisingly well, telling Dean that all he cared about was his happiness. Sometimes, when he’s puttering in the kitchen, a dog lying in the doorway, Cas in the living room sharing an apple with the guinea pigs, he thinks his mother would’ve been happy to see the life he’s created.

His dad, on the other hand.

Cas had been patient with Dean as he waited for him to tell his dad about them. More patient than Dean deserved. Even after they’d moved in together, Dean had conveniently kept his dad in the dark, which wasn’t hard to do since John dropped in and out of contact.

Dean still hadn’t forgiven himself for the way he’d reacted when his dad called to give him a heads up that he was going to be in town. He’d freaked out and asked Cas to move his stuff out of their one-bedroom apartment for the day. Cas had driven his things over to Sam’s place where they’d pretended he was one of Sam’s roommates.

Eventually Dean had worked up the nerve and, while his announcement was met with a long silence over the phone, John had mostly kept his thoughts to himself. He treated Cas coolly but civilly on the rare occasions their paths crossed, but it didn’t escape Dean’s notice that John had yet to set foot in any place he and Cas were living together.

It was a small dark spot in their otherwise happy existence. Once he’d found Cas, he’d stopped looking for anything more. They’re so good together and nothing will ever come between—

Mabel wriggles her way between them to stake claim to Cas’s feet. “Ooof,” Cas says as she settles her full weight onto him.

Dean looks down at her and sighs. “How big do you think she’s going to get?”

Cas shrugs helplessly as he works his feet out from under her.

*

Dean pulls in past Sam’s car and parks in his usual spot. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the last measures of Ramble On before shutting off the ignition and getting out. Gathering up the grocery bags, he walks up the back steps, shifting the bags after he turns the knob so he can push open the door with his hip. He kicks the door shut behind him and sets the bags on the counter, while calling out a hello that goes unanswered.

“Best guard dogs ever,” he notes as his entrance goes unnoticed.

He putters around putting away groceries in the pantry. The silence isn’t broken until he opens the refrigerator. Suddenly the excited wheeking of the guinea pigs is joined by the sound of jingling collars as the dogs waste no time in seeing if this is a treat-giving occasion. (Spoiler alert: it is.) The unmistakable sound of Mabel’s hooves adds to the cacophony as he reaches for the cheese. Block of cheddar in hand, he turns to dole out pieces and stops so suddenly that the refrigerator door hits him as it closes.

“Cas!”

Cas and Sam appear in the doorway, each wearing barely concealed grins.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas is doing his best to look innocent. It isn’t working.

Dean can’t believe the words about to leave his own mouth. “Why is our pig wearing a tutu?”

 

 

Cas squints in fake confusion and looks at Mabel. “Is she?”

Sam outright snorts.

The tutu wrapped around Mabel’s “waist” is made of purple netting dotted with silver sequins. She seems completely unfazed by it as she nudges at Dean’s thigh to encourage him to hurry along with the cheese distribution.

With no further answers forthcoming, Dean hands out bits of cheese. As quickly as they arrived, the four-legged creatures exit again, Mabel’s tutu swishing as she trots off.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose against the oncoming headache. “You actually went out and bought the pig a tutu.” Dean’s trying to find the humor here, but it turns out Mabel eats, well, like a pig and keeping her fed is straining the budget a bit. Last they checked she was over 220 pounds.

“We didn’t,” Sam says with his earnest face on as he and Cas exchange a look.

“Someone sent it to her,” Cas says, which doesn’t really clarify a thing.

“Someone sent the pig a tutu.” Dean’s disbelief turns to a prickle of concern. “Wait, to our house?”

“Come see,” Cas says.

Dean follows them to the living room where a pile of papers and small packages covers the coffee table. Dean’s brow furrows. “What’s all this?”

Cas takes a deep breath. “There were people commenting on her pictures who wanted to send her things. Little gifts or things they had made. I encouraged them to make donations to animal rescue charities in her honor instead, and many of them did but…” He looks at Sam.

“But there was still interest in sending things so…I set up a post office box in town.” He gestures to the table. “I checked it today.”

Cas shuffles through the papers, picking a few out. “Look.” He hands them to Dean. The first one was clearly drawn by a small child and shows a stick figure next to a pink blob with four legs. Another crayon picture has Mabel smiling in front of a large rainbow. “It’s not just kids, either.” Cas puts a couple of post cards in his hand. A woman from Iowa thanks them for brightening her day with pictures of Mabel. Another woman, from Oregon, writes that Mabel and her “cute dads” are the best thing on the internet.

Dean can’t decide if being called a “cute dad” is an insult or not.

“And look what somebody else sent!” Cas excitedly holds up a knit hat striped in black and bright yellow. Two black “antennas” topped with fluffy pom poms adorn the top. There’s a strap to tie it securely under Mabel’s chin. 

“They’re asking us to make T-shirts with Mabel’s picture on it.” Sam says.

“One person requested a calendar with a different picture for every month,” Cas adds.

“They want Mabel merchandise?” Dean asks in disbelief.

Cas nods. “It would give us a chance to educate people and raise awareness about Mabel in particular, and pigs in general.”

They gave up pork products pretty early on (and he’s made Cas swear on his life never to bring home a baby calf) but that was a change within their family. This is something bigger. It appears that the simple act of taking Mabel in—and keeping her when it became obvious she wasn’t a teacup pig—is having a much larger reach than he could’ve imagined. He’d never stopped to think about how their story might affect people outside of their little household, but here was proof that other people were finding joy in the fact that they had a full-sized farm animal doing an impression of a very large poodle.

“So, are you ok with this?” Cas asks. “I think there’s an opportunity to do some good here.”

Dean looks to the twin mattress that takes up a large chunk of the living room floor. They’d purchased it when Mabel outgrew the biggest dog beds on the market. Standing in the middle of it, Mabel digs in the pile of blankets with her two front legs, using her snout to push them just so. When she gets it arranged to her liking, she plops down gracefully on her side. The tutu fans out around her.

“Ok fine, but I draw the line at ballet lessons.”

*

Dean hums a little as he gets dressed. For once, they have a Sunday with no plans. There’s no sleeping in with a house full of animals, but after getting them out and fed, everyone went back to bed for a bit longer.

With nothing but a long, lazy day stretching out before them they eat a leisurely breakfast and argue good-naturedly about what to binge watch in the afternoon. They have a few things to do first since it’s laundry day for all the dog/pig blankets and Cas needs to clean the guinea pig pen. While he does that, Dean seasons a brisket and surrounds it with sliced onions and cut carrots then slides the pan into the oven to cook slowly all day. Once that’s done, he pops a big bowl of popcorn.

Setting the bowl on the coffee table, Dean shoos Val and Tillie off the couch. Val complies easily but Tillie pretends not to see him and stays “asleep” until he physically repositions her. Before she can jump back up, he flops down to claim the space. As soon as he gets comfortable, Longboy walks in and sniffs at the bowl. He’s wearing the tutu.

“Very funny, Cas!” Dean yells. “Get that nonsense off my dog.”

“The purple looks lovely against his white fur,” Cas says, carrying a laundry basket into the room. “Besides, I think he likes it.”

“Look, the pig is one thing. But this is Longboy. He has ‘boy’ right in his name, for God’s sake.”

“Are you saying your dog has a concept of gender that is somehow being affected by a bit of colorful fabric?”

“I’m saying my dog doesn’t wear a tutu.”

“Because it sure seems to me that you like wearing your pink--”

Dean doesn’t have to admit defeat because his phone rings just then and he covers his blush by focusing on getting it out of his pocket. He pretends not to notice Cas’s concerned look when, after checking the display, he springs to his feet to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Dean.”

“Hey, Dad.”

He hears more than sees Cas sit heavily on the couch.

“I’ve been trying to get hold of Sam. Do you know where he is?”

“I haven’t talked to him today.”

“Well, he’s not answering my calls.”

 _Doesn’t mean he’s not getting them_ , Dean thinks. “What’s up? Do you need me to get a message to him?” Dean keeps his voice calm and even. So what if they haven’t heard from John in over six months and their very first interaction marks Dean as his second choice?

“I’m in the area. Thought I’d come see you boys.”

Ok, now it makes sense. While John manages not to be openly hostile to Cas, there’s no doubt that he’s not comfortable with what he refers to as their “situation”. He’ll call Dean, but whenever they see him, it’s always been at Sam’s or some neutral spot. He’s never yet set foot in their house in the nearly three years they’ve lived there.

“Today?” Dean asks, and he knows right away that was the wrong response.

“Yes, today,” John says impatiently. “You don’t have time for your own father?”

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath and wanders out of the living room even though he should really check with Cas first. “I’ve already got dinner cooking. Do you want to come here?”

There’s a long pause and Dean thinks maybe he’s going to get his free day back after all. “Uh. Yeah. Ok,” John finally responds. “But try to get hold of your brother.”

They discuss times and Dean promises to text him their address. He ends the call and walks back into the living room. 

“So much for our afternoon,” Cas says with forced lightness.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, one hand at the back of his neck. “I should’ve asked you first.”

“He’s coming here?” Cas confirms, feeding Mabel pieces of popcorn and avoiding his eyes.

“I didn’t really think he’d say yes.” Dean tamps down the flicker of hope that maybe this is some sort of a good sign.

Cas finally looks at him, eyes hard. “Did you want me to leave?”

“Jesus Christ, no!”

“I don’t want to make things any harder than there’ll already going to be.”

Dean crosses to sit next to him on the couch. Mabel immediately nudges his hands to see if he’s also bearing treats. “This is your home. Our home. You’re not going anywhere.” Cas’s mouth is still pressed into a small, flat line. “I mean, unless you don’t want to be here,” Dean offers, with his stomach twisting.

Cas sighs. “Of course I don’t want to go. I just wish you wouldn’t keep subjecting yourself to him.”

“He’s my dad, Cas,” Dean says softly. “What am I supposed to do?”

They sit together in silence for a long moment, Mabel’s crunching the only sound.

“I will not tolerate him disrespecting you,” Cas says with a steely determination that sends a little shiver down Dean’s spine.

Dean stands up and runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

Cas sets the bowl on the floor for Mabel to finish and follows Dean into the kitchen.

The next few hours pass in a flurry of activity as they try to get the (already perfectly presentable) house up to Dean’s suddenly elevated standards. When Dean gets on his knees to wipe down baseboards even after agreeing with Cas that it didn’t need to be done, Cas gives up and puts on his coat. It takes a little cajoling to get Tillie up off the couch, but eventually he gets all the dogs plus Mabel outside.

That is, of course, when the doorbell rings.

Dean freezes, torn between answering the door and getting Cas inside again for backup. Then it rings a second, impatient time, and Dean has no choice but to propel himself toward the front door.

Dean feels his shoulders go back involuntarily at standing face to face with his father but John smiles at him. All in all, his dad looks pretty good. Hair’s a little shorter, beard’s a little fuller. He’s holding a paper bag that clearly contains a bottle.

Inside, he gives Dean a quick hug, slapping him on the shoulder. “How ya doin, kid? Smells good in here.”

“Good, we’re good,” Dean answers, taking the bag from John and pointing him toward the coatrack.

“You get hold of Sam?”

Dean swallows. “I left him a couple of messages.” Dean doesn’t blame Sam for not answering; he’s always been better at this. He knows Sam and Cas have had conversations about Dean’s inability to “set appropriate boundaries” or some shit.

John stops just past the entryway to look around and Dean tries to see their home through his father’s eyes. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable and it’s something he and Cas have built together. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath in anticipation of his dad’s reaction until John speaks.

“Don’t you get a glare on the TV having it across from that window?” Before Dean can defend the reasoning behind putting the TV there (and yes, he’s aware of the glare but there was literally no other way to set up the room), John spies Mabel’s mattress on the floor. “You got guests?”

“Uh, not exactly,” he begins but he’s drowned out by the pack of dogs coming in through the back door. John stands stiffly as they crowd around him, sniffing and barking. Dean’s doing his best to calm them when Mabel walks out of the kitchen.

John’s mouth actually falls open.

“What the fuck is that.”

It’s Cas who answers. “This is Mabel,” he says, striding forward. “Nice to see you, Mr. Winchester.”

John hesitates a moment before shaking his hand. “That a goddamn pig?” He directs the question at Dean even though Cas is standing right in front of him.

‘Yeah. We, uh, didn’t know she was gonna get so big.”

John rubs one eye as he watches her settle on her mattress. “I have not had enough to drink.”

Dean holds up the bag which, it turns out, contains a bottle of whiskey. “How ‘bout I fix that?” Ignoring the look Cas shoots him, Dean hurries into the kitchen to pour drinks. Over the pounding of his pulse in his ears, he hears a little bit of stilted conversation coming from the living room.

He tells himself he’s being stupid. He’s a grown man living his own life and he shouldn’t care what his father thinks. Particularly not a father who can’t even be bothered to contact either of his sons for months at a time.

He carries two glasses out to the living room and offers them around. John takes his readily, but Cas shakes his head, leaving Dean with no excuse to go back to the kitchen. He sits down on the couch next to Cas, leaving a good bit of space between them, and mentally kicking himself for doing it.

John tosses back his drink as he takes in the guinea pigs and the turtle. “Got yourselves a regular zoo in here.”

Cas smiles tightly. “We do enjoy our pets.”

John snorts, nudging a foot at Mabel. “I got news for you. That thing ain’t a pet. It’s dinner.”

Cas starts to bristle but Dean puts a hand on his arm. “Speaking of dinner, will you help me check it?”

Together they retreat to the kitchen. Longboy follows them and sits in the doorway, keeping a wary eye on John.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Dean says quietly, knowing full well Cas was going to explain how their diet was now pork-free. “He’ll never understand.”

Cas looks mildly annoyed, but Dean knows how this goes. Usually it’s Sam and John butting heads, but Sam’s not here. Cas is bound to get more and more frustrated as the evening wears on, but it’s Dean’s job to keep everyone happy.

Their moment of peace is short-lived when John navigates past Longboy, who doesn’t budge from the doorway, to come refill his glass from the bottle.

“Honestly, though,” John says, already chuckling, “doesn’t get much fresher than this! Straight from the living room to the table.” He catches the dark look Cas throws his way. “Aw, lighten up. I’m just kidding. Besides,” he takes a long swallow, “these beasts are the closest I’m gonna get to grandchildren out of you.” He nods at Dean when he says it.

This is a conversation he and Cas have only begun to skirt around. Dean feels something in his stomach plummet as he scrambles for a response. “Well, maybe Sam will come through.”

John shrugs dismissively. “Maybe.”

The brisket still needs time, so they go back to the living room. Cas puts on his polite face while John regales them with stories from the road. He works his way through a good portion of the whiskey, his stories getting louder and more elaborate the more he drinks.

Dean nurses the second glass John poured for him (ignoring the comment about how Cas probably prefers Chardonnay) and relaxes a little. John likes an audience and Dean’s had plenty of experience sitting and listening to him ramble. He even slides a little closer to Cas on the couch. All they have to do is get through dinner.

Eventually, John asks where the bathroom is and Dean points him in the right direction. Mabel, who has come to rest her chin on Cas’s knee, blocks his path.

“Out of the way, lardass!” John slaps her on the flank so he can pass.

“Don’t touch her.” Cas says with more than a little edge to his voice.

“It didn’t hurt,” John insists as he walks on.

Cas turns to Dean, one eyebrow raised. Dean scrubs a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t like it any more than Cas does, but this isn’t the time for arguing. “He didn’t hurt her,” he agrees, “and he’ll be gone soon.”

Cas hasn’t spent enough time around John to know that waiting him out is the number one, tried and true strategy. There’s a part of Dean’s brain that he shuts off when he’s with his father. It’s not fun or easy, but engaging that sort of autopilot is the only way he knows how to get through it. Despite that, he feels an exhaustion dragging him down just from the hour or so he’s spent in John’s company. Dean may have been pleasantly surprised when John agreed to come to their house, but there’s a part of him that hates having John here. He hates having him sit on their furniture and touch their things, much less their pets. Dean feels like he’ll need to open all the doors and windows to air out John’s presence after he leaves. He doesn’t like feeling that way, so he shoves it back down.

Cas gets to his feet before John returns from the bathroom. “I’m going to take her outside.”

Dean is in the kitchen taking the brisket out of the oven when John finds him again. “First a guy, now a pig. I wonder what it’ll be the next time.”

Dean shrugs, noncommittal.

John steps a little closer, leaning in. “Aren’t you about ready to get back to your real life?”

Dean breathes in through his nose. _It’s not a phase, dad_ pops into his head and the ridiculousness of it causes a wave of hysteria to bubble up inside him and he actually laughs.

John smiles back, pleased. “I’d love to have you back on the road with me. I’ve missed having you around.”

The little boy in him perks up, pleased at being wanted by his father. His dad will never understand his life now, but maybe it’s enough to know that he misses Dean sometimes and wishes he were there.

Cas and Mabel come clomping back up the steps and John turns to them, still smiling. “Hey, there piggy! Room for you here now!”

He opens the oven door.

“C’mon! Sooey!” The brisket just came out and the rich smell of roasted meat suffuses the air. Mabel doesn’t need more convincing than that and she moves toward the hot oven.

Somehow Dean gets there first and slams the door shut before she burns herself. Cas is gonna fucking snap, Dean knows this without even having to see his face because this was some stupid shit and—

Dean finds his hands are clenched into fists. This is not about keeping Cas happy, he realizes. He’s the one who is mad. Pissed beyond belief. How dare his father come into his house and put Mabel at risk.

“Out.” Somehow he manages to keep his voice level, even though the rage has him nearly shaking.

John waves a dismissive hand at him. “You really need to get a sense of humor.”

“Out.” Dean repeats. “Get out of our house.”

There’s a look of challenge in John’s eyes now. “You really gonna throw out your old man?”

“If I have to.” The rage has subsided a bit because Dean understands with complete clarity that this is exactly what he needs to do. Maybe he’s needed to do it for some time now.

They face off for a long moment in the kitchen before John takes a step towards the door.

But John isn’t done and he whirls back around.  “This isn’t you, Dean. I know this one” here, he waves a hand at Cas, “has some hold over you, but when you come back to your senses, I’ll be waiting for you. Me and Sammy are the only family you’ve got.”

Dean’s laugh is bitter. “You never bothered to get to know me all this time so don’t act like you care now.”  

John moves toward Dean, finger out to jab at his chest but Longboy lunges between them and growls until John steps back. He gives Dean one last disappointed look. “I wonder what your mother would think if she could see you now.”

At that, Dean pushes past him and pulls open the front door. “Get out.”

When John leaves, Dean resists the urge to slam the door as hard as he can behind him. With shaking hands, he closes it, then turns and slumps against it. His legs are unsteady and his vision is beginning to tunnel. He sinks to the floor, his head in his hands.

Before Cas can get to him, Longboy is there, nudging at his hands and licking his face. Cas crouches down and puts a hand on his ankle. “You ok?”

Dean tries to take stock of himself but everything is still a jumble of adrenaline and emotion. “I don’t know.”

Mabel ambles over and wedges herself between Dean and the wall. When she lies down, pressed up against his leg, Dean reaches over to rest his arm on her broad back. The world is starting to rush in again, but he feels safe where he is. He’s got a pig on one side, a dog on the other, and Cas is there gently tipping Dean’s chin up to meet his eyes.

“That was incredible,” Cas says with awe in his voice.

Dean searches for the crushing guilt he should feel at being so disrespectful to his father but it’s not there. Instead, he feels absolute certainty in the rightness of what he’s done.

*

“Do you need anything from town?”

“Oh no you don’t.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I’m only going to Home Goods. I want to see if I can find some bigger pillows for Mabel’s bed.”

 “The two striped kittens, Juniper, _Mabel_.” Dean ticks them off on his fingers. “Nothing good ever comes from these trips,” he says even as he scrapes the last spoonful of macaroni from the serving bowl and holds it out for her to eat. Cheese coats her snout and Val goes to lick it off. “That’s disgusting,” he tells the dog, shooing her away.

“You can come, but it’s going to be boring.”

Dean runs a clean dish cloth under warm water, then wrings it out. “That sounds like something someone sneaking around to find more stray animals would say.”

He wipes Mabel’s face clean, sighing as she begins to munch on the cloth itself. Prying the cloth gently from her mouth, he examines her crooked bottom teeth, idly wondering if she needs braces. Realizing what he’s done, he balls up the cloth and tosses it in the sink. “Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I just mentally considered orthodontia for our pig. I need to get out of the house.”

“Fine, but no complaining.”

“Oh my God, Cas. I think I can manage a shopping trip.”

 

Thirty minutes later, Dean has parked the Impala and they’re crossing the lot to the front of the store.

“How long is this going to take?”

“You promised,” is all Cas says.

Dean nods towards the diner across the road. “How about you meet me there when you’re done?” The apple pie there isn’t great, but even mediocre pie beats wandering around a home furnishing store.

Cas takes him by the arm and steers him toward the door. “You wanted to come shopping, you’re going shopping.”

Before Dean can argue, he feels eyes on him. A woman and her teenage son are standing on the sidewalk. She's looking at them with narrowed eyes and whispering to the boy. After the incident with John, Dean's been feeling a lot more open about being himself, but it only takes an incident like this to remember that the rest of the world has some catching up to do. 

He resists the urge to glare at her and keeps his eyes on the door. But apparently staring at them and whispering isn't enough for her. "Excuse me," she begins.

Dean is so not in the mood for a lecture and keeps walking. Cas, however, stops. "Yes?"

 “Hi,” she begins tentatively. “You two are Mabel’s dads, aren’t you?”

Dean and Cas exchange a look. “I suppose we are,” Cas answers.

She smiles. “We get such a kick out of her. We always look forward to her pictures and videos.”

Well, that is not at all what Dean expected and his brain takes a minute to catch up. “You do?”

"Absolutely." She gestures at her son. "He even texts me her pictures sometimes."

Dean eyes the boy and says the only thing he's apparently capable of at the moment. "You _do_?"

The boy crosses his arms over his chest. “Mabel’s legit.”

“It’s exciting that our little town has a celebrity,” the woman continues. “We’d love to be able to meet her.”

Cas opens his mouth to answer, but Dean gets there first. “We’ll take that under consideration.”

“We’ll put an announcement on the Facebook page,” Cas says, over his shoulder as Dean leads him into the store.

“You’re not going to let these people come to our house.”

“It would be a great way to teach people about her.”

“Soon it’ll be nothing but online shopping for you,” Dean grumbles, tugging a shopping cart free. It's a little weird to meet a "fan" but at the same time, it left him with a spark of warmth at knowing that, at least in this instance, they've apparently been accepted with the same open arms as Mabel herself.

With Dean in tow, Cas makes his way slowly up and down the aisles looking at everything.

“I thought we were here for pillows,” Dean says when Cas picks up a set of plastic nesting bowls. They’ve yet to make it out of the kitchen area.

“We are.” Cas offers the bowls to Dean for his inspection. When Dean nods, he adds the bowls to the cart and they turn the corner at the end of the aisle.

That’s when Dean sees it. 

It’s a colorful metal rooster, standing over six feet tall. It’s gaudily painted in primary colors, completely useless, and Dean can’t help himself.

“Look at that giant cock, Cas.”

Cas shakes his head but he can’t hide a small smile.

“I need it, Cas. I need that huge cock.”

A chastising _Dean_ is all he gets in response.

“C’mon Cas. I let you bring home animals all the time. Now I ask for _one thing_ and you shoot it down?”

“We’re not getting that, Dean.” Cas points at the price tag. “I’m not spending $300 on something we don’t need.”

“Oh, I need that big cock, all right.” Dean’s voice is getting louder. “You know I love a big cock, Cas. It’s why I married you.”

Cas is turning an appealing shade of pink and trying to continue their trek down the aisle, but Dean puts one hand on the cart to stop him. He presses the other hand to the metal of the rooster’s neck.

“Feel how hard this cock is, Cas.”

A couple walking toward them stop to stare. Cas takes a few steps away from Dean and pretends to be interested in a stack of bath mats.

“I just mean it’s sturdy and well-made,” Dean clarifies as the couple continues past them. “Don’t you think this cock could really take a licking, Cas?”

There’s a big, gruff looking guy eyeing them now and Dean knows he's pushing his luck. He doesn’t want any trouble so he leans in close to Cas to whisper about them getting cockblocked but the guy strides right up to them.

“Hey,” he begins.

Dean holds up his hands. “It’s cool. I’m done.”

The man looks between them and the rooster in confusion. “What? No, I mean…aren’t you Mabel’s dads?”

Dean loops his arm easily around Cas. “Yes, yes we are.”


End file.
